Chapter 3

3.

His last shred of patience vanished.

“Get some rest. I’ll check on you later.” He left quickly.

The moment the door clicked shut, I heard Chloe’s voice outside. “Carter, is Evelyn okay? It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have asked you to take me home.”

Carter’s voice immediately softened. “It’s not your fault. She’s just being dramatic.”

I stared at the ceiling as silent tears slipped from the corners of my eyes, soaking into the pillow.

When Leo first passed, I had cried until I thought I was empty. I thought I had no tears left.

The next day, a driver took me back to our townhouse on the Upper East Side.

As I walked in, I saw Chloe sitting on the living room sofa, laughing and chatting with my mother-in-law. She was holding Oliver, and around the cat’s neck was a small silver pendant I knew all too well―

It was the one I had designed for Leo’s first birthday. It was engraved with his initials: L.S.

After Leo was gone, I donated all his belongings, keeping only that one pendant. It was the only thing I had left of him.

“Evelyn, you’re back,” Chloe said, standing up with her usual gentle smile. “Oliver loves this little pendant so much. Carter said since Leo wouldn’t be needing it anymore, he could have it.”

I said nothing. I walked over and ripped the pendant from the cat’s neck.

Oliver hissed, his claws digging bloody scratches into the back of my hand.

“What do you think you’re doing!” my mother-in-law shrieked, rushing over. “It’s just a pendant! Why are you fighting with a cat over it?”

Chloe’s eyes welled with tears. “Evelyn, I’m sorry, it’s my fault. If you’re upset, take it out on me. Don’t scare Oliver.”

I clutched the pendant, blood seeping from my fist.

Just then, Carter walked in. His eyes scanned the scene, and his face hardened. “What now?”

Chloe immediately ran to him, grabbing his arm and bowing her head like a little girl admitting she’d done wrong. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have given the pendant to Oliver.”

Carter’s gaze fell on me, filled with nothing but blame. “It’s a pendant. What’s the big deal?”

Ignoring my protests, he pried it from my hand and fastened it back around the cat’s neck.

“The whole world doesn’t revolve around you, Evelyn.”

I stood there, watching him walk away, utterly speechless.

The next day, I went to the office.

My assistant told me that Roger Davenport, the managing partner of Davenport Capital, wanted to see me personally. The deal with the Sterling Group was being reassessed due to all the attention on our “family scandal.”

I took the files to the conference room.

Davenport was an old-school Southern businessman from Kentucky who loved to talk about “traditional values.” He looked up at me and said, “Mrs. Sterling, I heard you were working late at the office when your child had his… incident.”

I stood my ground. “Mr. Davenport, the situation at that time―”

“The situation doesn’t matter,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “Everyone on Wall Street is talking about it. I have kids of my own. I can’t accept that kind of cold-heartedness.”

Every executive in the room was staring at me. Carter sat beside me, silent.

Davenport pushed a glass of bourbon toward me. “Back in Kentucky, we have a saying: a deal is sealed with bourbon. You drink this, admit in front of everyone that you failed in your family duties, and I’ll let this go.”

It was three full ounces of straight liquor.

I had a severe stomach ulcer. My doctor had forbidden me from drinking.

I looked at Carter. Once again, he looked away.

“Mr. Davenport is offering you a way out. Just take it,” he whispered.

I picked up the glass, my hand trembling.

Everyone was waiting to see what I would do. Chloe stood behind Carter, a smug, triumphant smirk playing on her lips.

I took the first sip, a burning fire searing its way down my throat. After the second, my vision blurred. I finished the last drop, slammed the glass upside down on the table, and looked up.

“I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

Mr. Davenport finally smiled. “Mrs. Sterling knows how to play ball.”

I turned and fled the room, rushing to the restroom where I wretched violently. Blood mixed with alcohol choked me. I clung to the marble countertop, unable to stand.

Carter followed me in, his face pale. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said after rinsing my mouth.

“If you can’t drink, you shouldn’t have pushed yourself.”

“You told me to.”

He was speechless for a moment, then reached out to wipe the blood from my lips. I took a step back.

“Mr. Sterling, this is a professional setting.”

His hand froze in mid-air.